


Don't Pretend that Black Is White

by ViolaRosa98



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Hair Dyeing, Hurt Shiro (Voltron), Insecure Shiro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), broganes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-23 12:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14934072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolaRosa98/pseuds/ViolaRosa98
Summary: Shiro can't be the man he was before he was labeled Prisoner #117-9875, and he can't erase his scars... but he CAN dye his hair. The paladins think it looks weird. / A.k.a., Keith and Lance stop arguing long enough to show Shiro that he still looks like himself, even if he doesn't look like he used to, and Shiro realizes that his "space family" understands him more than he ever thought was possible.





	1. ... Might As Well Be

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a chronological setting in mind for this fic, so feel free to set this either during Seasons 1-2, when Real!Shiro was alive, during Seasons 3-6, when Clone!Shiro was with the team, or post-Season 6. It works for any period!

            There are a lot of things that everyone on Team Voltron accepts _a posteriori_. "Shiro doesn't sleep" is one of these things.

            If Shiro's not already half-asleep to begin with, he won't even _agree_ to go to bed — and even when he _does_ retire to his room, he doesn't sleep for more than an hour or two. He would if he could, but he can't — not when he's tormented by nightmares that are all the more terrifying on account of the fact that they're _memories_ , not just products of his subconscious mind. When he closes his eyes, Shiro sees _exactly_ how he became what the Galra made him: the Champion, a living, breathing weapon that leaves no one alive and nothing behind. And if he doesn't wake up quick enough, he'll be forced to watch himself behead a fellow prisoner-of-war with the axe he'd been given at the start of the match, then, as he trudges back to the Galrans there to shepherd him back to his cell, step over the slaughtered gladiator's blood not out of respect for a fellow POW, but simply because the thin-soled shoes he had been issued after he'd been captured offered a bit of warmth, and he didn't want to get them wet. The temperature of the cells gladiators were kept in was only just above freezing, after all.

            After Shiro _does_ , at last, wake up — in a cold sweat in the middle of the night — he'll go shower, then come back to his room and do some basic exercises until he hears the faint sound of Hunk's alarm clock going off, at which point he'll go down to the kitchen and wait to help Hunk make breakfast (or, more accurately, keep Hunk company while he cooks breakfast, since Shiro can't even boil water). It'll be half a varga until Coran and Allura join them, and another half varga — at least — before the other paladins wander into the dining room. The first one to do so will be Keith, eager to get breakfast over with as quickly as possible so he can get some extra training in. The second one to stumble in will be Pidge, still dressed in her pajamas and looking more asleep than awake. The third and last one to arrive will be Lance, but he'll start chatting Hunk's ear off as soon as the Yellow Paladin sits down at the table.

            While that's how most mornings go, there _are_ days, however rare, that Shiro gets a good night's sleep — and when that happens, the usually light sleeper is harder to wake than a dead man. Shiro functions well on the insufficient amount of sleep he gets, but that doesn't mean that his body doesn't _crave_ sleep, doesn't _plead_ for sleep as loudly as the lungs of a drowning man scream for air.

            When Shiro walks into the dining room feeling, for once, well-rested, he sees what he sees whenever he manages to get a good night's sleep and, consequently, sleeps in: Coran and Allura talking quietly amongst themselves, Keith and Lance arguing with each other, Hunk attempting to placate the both of them, and Pidge doing her best to ignore everyone.

            "We should even have graduated from the Garrison by now!" Lance exclaims, popping the collar of his blue pajama shirt like it's the collar of the gray officer uniform Shiro had been stripped of when he was captured.

            _What did the Galra_ do _with my uniform?_ the Black Paladin wonders as he takes a seat at the table.

            "—except for you, Mullet," Lance continues haughtily as Shiro shoves the question out of his mind. Shiro gives Hunk an appreciative nod as the Yellow Paladin hands him a plate, then refocuses on Lance. "You know, what with you _dropping out_ and all."

            "I didn't _drop_ out, you idiot. I was _expelled_!" Keith retorts, slamming his fists on the table. "And you should be grateful I was, because if I hadn't been, you'd still be a damned _cargo_ pilot!" he adds, all but spitting out the word "cargo."

            The reminder of _why_ he had been promoted to fighter class makes Lance blanch, but before the Blue Paladin can respond, Shiro clears his throat. Loudly.

            The antagonistic paladins, now aware of Shiro's presence, turn towards him. Shiro looks pointedly at both before simply saying "stow it, cadets" and turning back to his breakfast.

            The two fall silent, but not for long — after just over a minute, Lance mutters under his breath, "what'd you even _do_ to get kicked out? All Iverson ever said was that you had 'discipline issues.'"

            The corner of Keith's mouth curls upwards into a snarl, but he answers with a collected, steadfast voice. "Nothing I wouldn't do a thousand times over again."

            "I still can't believe you got booted from the Garrison," Shiro admits, swallowing a bite of Hunk's masterpiece and turning to look at Keith. "Didn't I tell you not to do anything stupid while I was gone?"

            "You were gone for over a _year_ , Shiro!" Keith defends. "They said you were _dead_!"

            "My absence wasn't exactly entirely voluntary, Keith," Shiro deadpans.

            "What'd you expect, Shiro?" Lance interjects, smirking. "Keith can't refrain from doing something stupid for _five minutes_ , never mind an entire _year_."

            "Lance," Shiro says warningly. "That's enough."

            "You can't tell me what to do," Lance grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. "You aren't my father."

            "No, I'm not, but—."

            "—he might as well be," Pidge interrupts, causing everyone at the table to turn towards her. "He's older than everyone here except Coran, and Allura, too, I guess, if you count the ten thousand years she spent in stasis," she continues. "He's even got white hair!"

            Shiro crosses his eyes to look at the white bangs spilling onto his forehead, and before he can stop it, a blush spreads across his cheeks.

            "He's not our dad," Keith grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest and shooting Pidge a leveling glare. "And just for the record," he adds, turning towards Lance, "your comebacks are about as good as your _shitty_ piloting skills."

            "Keith!" Shiro admonishes.

            " _What?_ " Keith hisses, whipping his head around to look at Shiro. "Lance started it!"

            "I don't _care_ who started it," Shiro huffs. _I swear these paladins act more like toddlers than teenagers, sometimes!_ "I'm asking you to _end it_. You need to stop letting Lance get a rise out of you. This temper of yours is probably what got you booted from the Garrison! You were a _brilliant_ pilot, Keith. You beat my records! You could've—."

            "Yeah, I _could have_ let the Garrison administration _piss_ all over your proverbial grave," Keith growls, "but I wasn't going to let those assholes propagate that stupid fucking _lie_ about the Kerberos mission failing because of—."

            "Okay, wait a second, Keith. Did Shiro just say you _beat his records_?" Pidge interrupts.

            "Yeah…?"

            "Whoa," she breathes. "Shiro's records were _legendary_!"

            "Shiro's records were _stale_ ," Keith corrects. He turns toward Shiro, a complacent smirk on his face. "I entered the Garrison five years after you graduated, and your simulator scores were _still_ records. _Someone_ had to knock you off your pedestal."

            "You graduated _eight years ago_ , Shiro?" Hunk interjects before Shiro can respond.

            "… yes," Shiro admits reluctantly.

            "Quiznak."

            It's not hard to translate that: "Shit, dude, you're old."

            _Yeah_ , Shiro thinks as he looks around at the other paladins. _Yeah, I really am._

            It wasn't, in reality, _that_ long ago that Shiro and Matt Holt were celebrating their having been selected for the Kerberos mission, and Shiro was joking about being able to lure aliens back to Earth to be studied by Commander Holt and other Garrison scientists with tales of Japanese cherry blossoms, spaghetti, and the wondrous Antelope Canyon, Arizona… but it might as well have been eons ago.

            _I was so naïve…_

            "Shiro?"

            " _Shiro!_ "

            "Hmm?" Shiro murmurs, turning in his head in the direction of the voices he had barely registered.

            "What time do you want everyone on the training deck?" Keith asks.

            "Oh, uh… be there in fifteen minutes," he stammers.

            The three youngest paladins disperse to go put on their armor, but Keith stays put. "You alright, Shiro?" he asks, one eyebrow raised in concern.

            "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, Keith," Shiro answers a bit too quickly. _Damn._ "I'm sorry. I just spaced out for a minute."

            "… okay," Keith decides. "I'm here if you need to talk, though," he adds before leaving the room, leaving Shiro alone.

            Shiro waits until he can't hear Keith's footsteps anymore, then bends down to retrieve his helmet from where he'd set it on the floor next to his chair. He tucks it underneath his cybernetic arm, then places his still virtually-untouched plate in the Altean equivalent of a dishwasher and starts the trip to the training deck, all too aware of the snow-white bangs that flutter whenever he walks past an air vent.


	2. Red, White, and Blue

            "Why did I do this?"

            Shiro's reflection doesn't answer him.

            "This was a dumb idea," he sighs. He starts running his hand through the hair he's just dyed black, but stops as soon as he catches sight of his prosthetic fingers. "This was _such_ a dumb idea."

            Shiro had thought that dyeing his white hair black would help him look like who he once was — which is about all he could've hoped for, really, since he can't _be_ who he used to be. The Shiro that had landed on Kerberos with Commander Holt and Matt died at the hands of the Galra ages ago, and the glaring differences between who Shiro _was_ and who Shiro is _now_ become all the more obvious each time he fails to bond with the teenaged paladins.

            Shiro's aware that he's neither as old nor as disconnected from the other paladins as his self-denigrating mind claims he is (because if he was, forming Voltron would be impossible), but his time as Prisoner #117-9875 changed him. While he was once daring and excitable, now he's cautious and tired — so, _so_ tired! — and his need to consider all the possible consequences and to expect the unexpected often overpower his inner daredevil. In addition, Shiro's time in space has made him realize that he's not as awesome as he used to think he was, or as anyone thinks he _is_. There's just no getting around the fact, he believes, that all he is is a pilot who failed his crew, a gladiator whose undefeated status can be attributed to colossal fear and to what could very ironically be called luck, and the leader of the defenders of the universe simply by default.

            It's obvious that Shiro's time as Prisoner #117-9875, as the _Champion_ , changed him, but it's even more obvious that it _aged_ him. He can dye his white hair black, but he can't change that _look_ in his eyes. It was stupid to think that he could change himself to look like someone he isn't — even if the person he's trying to emulate is someone he used to be.

            Shiro sighs again, then turns his back to the mirror and stalks out of the bathroom and down to the lounge, where, if he remembers correctly, the other paladins should be attempting to teach the Alteans how to play poker.

            He regrets deciding to join them when six pairs of eyes all turn to stare at him.

            "Shiro! What did you—? _Why_ did you—?" Lance splutters.

            "How'd you get your hands on hair dye?" Hunk, ever curious, asks.

            "I…" He surveys the room, his eyes darting from one teammate to another, then gulps and continues. "I, uh, found some at the mall earlier. I thought I'd try it out."

            "It looks weird," Lance decides.

            Shiro's hands ball into fists at his sides. "How can it look _weird_?" he demands defensively. "My hair is _black_. This is what it looked like before Kerberos. This is what it should _still_ look like."

            The unspoken words — "This is what my hair looked like before my life went to Hell" — are heard by everyone, and a guilty expression comes over Lance as he quietly apologizes.

            Allura is the one who breaks the resulting silence.

            "I liked it better white," the Princess opines, twirling a lock of her own white hair around her index finger. "You looked regal. On Altea—." She stops as her voice quivers, but she quickly regains her composure and continues. "—white hair was common amongst the royal family and other nobles. It wasn't universal, of course, but it was quite popular nonetheless."

            "I liked it better white, too," Pidge adds. "It looked edgy."

            "You said it made me look like a father!" Shiro retorts, his voice louder and more accusatory than he'd meant for it to sound.

            Pidge flinches. "I meant that in a good way, Shiro," she explains.

            "I agree with everyone else," Hunk interjects. "I thought your hair was cool. It was like a sunset in grayscale."

            Shiro recognizes that these all are good things. He does. He really, _really_ does — but the incessant whirring of his cybernetic arm has been driving him up a wall lately, and he can't help but react almost violently. "I don't care!" he yells. "I don't _care_ if any of you liked it because _I didn't_! I _hated_ it! I shouldn't have white hair!"

            The silence that follows Shiro's outburst is almost deafening, but it's quickly broken by Keith standing up from where he's been sprawled out on the couch, arms crossed over his chest, and walking over to the Black Paladin.

            "Do you remember," he starts, "that time you told me that just because something _should_ be doesn't mean something _is_ or _will_ be?" He glares down at Shiro — an impressive feat given the fact that Shiro is several inches taller than him — then continues. "You're right, Shiro. You shouldn't have white hair. You shouldn't be a paladin, either, though. _None of us_ should be. Why should a couple of humans who, not too long ago, didn't even know that life _existed_ outside the Milky Way be leading the fight against a ten-thousand-year-old intergalactic empire?" He crosses his arms over his chest again, then raises one eyebrow. "Are you going to tell us all to pack up our shit and go home because our lives shouldn't be like this?"

            "Keith, that's not even remotely sim—."

            "Actually," Coran interrupts, "he's got a point, Shiro."

            "Your hair hasn't been all black in a long time, Shiro," Keith continues. "It's who you are now: someone with white hair."

            "It's who the Galra _made me_ , Keith, not who I am," Shiro argues.

            "What? You're not some fucking robot built in a lab! They didn't—."

            "You wanna talk about being built in a lab?" Shiro growls, bringing his now-activated and glowing right arm up and within inches from Keith's face.

            The Red Paladin's cheeks flush as red as the cropped jacket he's wearing, and upon hearing the utterly _furious_ tone of Shiro's voice, he takes a step back. Keith trusts Shiro with his life, but Shiro's killed more people than he can count, and being on the receiving end of his rage tends to squash even the bravest man's bravado. "I… I'm sorry," he mumbles finally.

            "Wow, great choice of words there, Mullet," Lance interjects sarcastically, getting up himself. He walks over to Shiro and Keith, then lays a hand on Keith's shoulder and continues. "I think what our not-so-eloquent friend here meant, Shiro, was that the Galra didn't make you look like you do now. Yes, what they subjected you to caused the natural process of graying to start prematurely, but that doesn't mean that your white hair isn't a part of you. It's like… like when you go to the beach during the summer and your skin gets tanner, or if you're as pale as a quiznaking corpse like Keith—." Keith huffs at the insult, and Lance smirks. "—you get as red as a tomato. You might look _different_ , but you still look like _you_." He tugs at Keith's hair hard enough to get a squeak out of the Red Paladin, then turns back to Shiro. "If Keith were to ever chop off his ridiculous mullet, he'd still look like Keith because he _is_ Keith — and the same goes for you. You'll always look like you because you are who you are, and no one can change that."

            When Lance stops talking, the lounge is more silent than a cemetery and Shiro's face is so pink it's impossible to distinguish the scar across his nose from the rest of his skin.

            "I… uh, um…" Shiro, so stricken by the expression on Lance's face he's unable to form a coherent thought, stammers. The expression on Lance's face is the same expression that Shiro sees whenever he looks into a mirror, and when Shiro glances at the other paladins and finds the expression on their faces, too, his heart breaks. These… these _teenagers_ have been swept up in a grander adventure than they'd ever dared to dream of, and now they bear a responsibility that, if the expressions on their faces are anything to go by, they're still trying to figure out if they regret undertaking.

            Shiro looks at Keith and sees indigo-colored eyes blazing with a determined fury, as well as the Galran dagger strapped to his belt, and he knows that Keith understands what it's like to question your very identity and to wonder if you're cursed or if the universe is just unfathomably shitty and unfair. He looks at Lance and sees the worry-induced crinkles around his eyes, as well as how the soft but silly grin that's plastered to his face is wobbling, and he knows that Lance understands what it's like to have _the perfect life_ and lose it all, and to wonder if you'll ever get back what you once had. He looks at Hunk and sees the same fear he sees in his own eyes in Hunk's bitten-bloody bottom lip and twiddling thumbs, and he knows that Hunk understands what it's like to believe you weren't built to do what you're doing and that you're not capable of or ready to do what you _know_ you have to do. He looks at Pidge and, seeing the cropped hair that looks so much like Matt's hair Shiro can't help but wonder how he didn't realize who Pidge was sooner, remembers how her formerly-long hair had been blowing in the wind the day she'd had to say goodbye to half of her family and half of her heart, and he knows she understands what it's like to not quite recognize your own reflection.

            Shiro doesn't just look at Keith, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge, though. He looks at Coran and, seeing his hand on Allura's shoulder, realizes that Coran understands what it's like to bear the responsibility of having to protect someone else, and to struggle with toeing the line between doing your duty and giving your charge(s) the freedom to do and learn things for themselves. In addition, he looks at Allura and, as he watches her fiddle with her crown and grind her jaw, realizes that she understands what it's like to feel like there's nowhere you can truly call "home" anymore, and to not know whether to rejoice in how far you've come or double down because you still have so far left to go.

            Shiro looks at the people around him — his ragtag little family — and sees everything he sees whenever he looks into a mirror… and he understands that they understand. The things they have experienced out here have aged them and changed them, and none of them are who they were — but they are who they are, and as Shiro looks around, he realizes that he loves who they are right now even more than who they used to be.

            And maybe, with their help, he can grow to feel the same way about himself.

            "Shiro?"

            He turns towards Lance.

            "Are you okay?" the Blue Paladin asks, his brows furrowed with concern.

            "… I think so," Shiro answers honestly. He glances at the floor, then looks back at Lance and, hesitantly, adds, "can you… can you help me wash this dye out?"

            Lance grins. "It would be my pleasure."

            Shiro exits the lounge and starts for the bathroom, trusting Lance to follow him. When he sees Lance fall into step beside him, he wraps his flesh-and-blood arm around the smaller man's shoulders and shoots him a serious smile. "Thank you, Lance," he says. "I mean it. Thank you."


End file.
